Title: Necromancer
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: Seven - The Deal
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Hook paced the deck of his ship with an impatient stride, his coat tails flaring outward each time he turned to traverse the planks again. His men went about their business with a subdued air, their chatter silenced, their work suddenly taking them as far from where Hook walked as possible. They were all too aware of what was about to happen, and were just waiting for either the order to sail or the order sending them down into the bowels of the ship to await the latest outcome of whatever strange magic the Necromancer chose to conjure from the Captain's cabin. Warily they watched and listened, the click of Hook's boots on the scrubbed wood loud in the still air.
As if only just noticing the preoccupation of his crew, Hook stopped and lifted his head, the men suddenly finding anything to look at other than their Captain. Hook was well aware that his crew were studiously avoiding any contact either by eye or action with him, it afforded him a certain amount of pleasure to know that his crew walked in abject fear of him. Although to be truthful, it wasn't Hook, it was what was occupying his cabin that the crew feared most.
If Hook was entirely truthful, he feared it as much, if not more so than they did.
Having a magician aboard that played with living human souls to perform deep magic was enough to chill anyone's blood. Having seen what the Necromancer could do with just one innocent soul, Hook was both eager and fearful to see if that power could be channelled into pursuing his own agenda, the Capture of Peter Pan. So far he'd been singular unsuccessful in stressing this point with the mage in his cabin. It galled Hook that the man thought himself far above the mortal plane, his black soul beyond the reach of men, already half way to hell and back. This was Hook's ship and Hook's men, he should have access to that power, to use as he saw fit, but the mage had other ideas. The destruction of the plain on the other side of the island had been only the start, the testing ground for what, Hook had yet to find out. This game was being played deep and Hook wasn't one of the players, just the messenger boy. He ground his teeth in frustration and paced again.
The sun beat down on his unprotected head, his glossy black hair absorbing the heat making him sweat. His coat itched and he longed to shrug it off, maybe even take one of the boats ashore and have a swim in the crystal blue water that lapped so seductively against the hull. All thoughts of his own pleasure were wiped when he felt the first tickle at the edge of his mind, a voice calling him to his cabin, the feeling like a grey cobweb fluttering in his head, the tendrils itchy and sticky, weaving their insidious way around his thoughts, numbing his will so that he dropped whatever he was doing and answered with alacrity. As before his feet instantly changed direction and he found himself outside his sturdy cabin door, his hook raised to knock. Recalling who he was, Captain Hook snatched his arm away and pushed hard on the door, waiting until it swung open fully before stepping inside. His cabin was unrecognisable as his own, all his lush furnishing and fittings stripped back to the wood, the windows boarded up, the floor and walls bare. Only his ornate desk had survived, being used by the current occupant to hold a stack of books and jar's of potions as well as an array of nightmare inducing implements beyond even Hook's ability to imagine their uses.
The figure in the centre of the room seemed to consist of shadows, his dark robes encasing him like smoke, cloaking his form until you didn't know if he was real or just an after image on your retina, glimpsed but never solid.
"Ah you are here. I need another soul, the next stage is ready for execution. Bring your captive to me....at once."
The voice reached out to him, its sibilant echoes soaking into him and making him tremble. Hook was never sure if the man actually spoke the words or they just appeared directly into his head, whichever it was the effect was the same, like a chill snaking down his spine and coiling in his guts like poison. Licking his dry lips, Hook opened his mouth to speak but the Necromancer held up a skeletal thin hand and the words remained unspoken.
"This will bring the boy you seek directly to you.....that is what you want, is it not?"
"Yes.....it is." Hook croaked.
"Then bring the captive to me....it is time to wield the spell once more."
Hook suddenly found himself outside the cabin, the door shutting slowly on his face. He didn't remember walking, only that he was no longer in his own cabin, the creature inside dismissing him like a common lackey. Shaking his head, Hook raised his arm as if to slash the door down with his metal hook, but the blow never fell. Instead he turned away and stalked down the gangway to the stairwell that led down to the brig and the prisoner awaiting in the darkness.
An hour later Hook was shouting for his crew to get the ship out to deep water, the first flakes of snow starting to fall as the Jolly Roger set sail towards the horizon, the sea already starting to freeze near the shore, the sky turning from blue to grey as they ran in front of the wind sending flurry's across the deck. Hook stood on the poopdeck, his eyes turned to watch the shore as Neverland slowly disappeared behind a curtain of white. This was not like the times that Peter Pan left Neverland, the sea freezing in an instant winter, only to thaw again in a few hours. This was different and Hook shivered in spite of his thick brocade coat. This time there had been no bloodcurdling scream, no white light and loud noise, this time the spell had been cast without the usual dramatics, but the fate of his prisoner had been the same. If he looked really hard he could still see the blackened corpse floating in the sea far astern of the ship, one stick like arm still pointing to the sky. Hook shuddered, hating to be the one to deliver the victims to the enchanter, the previous time a bewildered Lost Boy, so young and angry, this time a reckless Indian youth who strayed too close to shore out of curiosity or bravado they would never now, his fate the same as the Lost Boy.
They were far enough out at for the sea-ice not to reach them, although the cold did, the snow still falling even this far out.
"Keep a steady course, Mister Gore....then circle around the island."
"Aye, aye Sir!"
Neverland had all but vanished behind the veil of white when Hook turned away at last, the cold too penetrating for him to remain on deck any longer.
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Wendy huddled by the small fire she'd managed to get going, the flames eating through her small pile of wood too quickly. She pulled the furs more tightly around herself, her toes almost in the ashes as she tried to maintain her body heat. It had been hours since she'd awoken alone and she couldn't stop wondering why Peter had left her and not returned. She had briefly gone outside to check for any sign of him but had been beaten back by the sheer cold, the visibility almost zero as snow continued to fall, thick and heavy over the forest. Inside the tree the air was only slightly warmer, her pitiful fire bravely beating back the numbing chill at first, but as her wood diminished so did its ability to warm her. Soon it would go out altogether and she would be faced with either freezing to death in the tree, or setting out to find another shelter. With this in mind, she started to work on creating some sort of footwear to protect her feet and legs, as well as a way to keep the thickly furred skins around her. With time running out, she found lengths of twine and supple creepers and used them to bind the skins to her body, her numb fingers fumbling until she held them almost in the flames to thaw them. When feeling returned, along with the pain of pins and needles, she worked quickly to create her protective snow suit. By the time she had laid the last piece of wood on the fire she was almost ready, only needing to create a hood to finish her new ensemble. She was glad she didn't have a mirror, sure that she must look like some strange kind of lumpy bear under all the multi-coloured fur, but she didn't mind, it was keeping her warm, and more importantly alive.
When the last flame died, she rose and left the hideout, having to push hard at the secret door to open it. Outside she found that the snow had stopped, but had left huge drifts that would made walking difficult if not impossible for her. Standing outside she was faced with a new problem. She had no idea which direction to go in. She tried to think happy thoughts, remembering the night spent in Peter's arms, but nothing happened. After several failed attempts she deduced that she needed fairy dust to fly, something she had none of. Thinking of fairy dust, made her think of the fairies, wondering how they were coping in this sudden cold snap, whether they were able to survive at all. As she stood there, her breath clouding the air, she decided to head back to the beach and start from there. At least if anyone came looking for her they would see her more clearly out in the open and maybe follow her footsteps as well. Making up her mind she set out, threading her way through the trees in what she thought was the direction of the beach.
Unfortunately for Wendy, she was heading in entirely the opposite direction, each step taking her further and further away from her destination.
As she plodded through the forest, she found the exercise was making her toasty warm, her body working very hard until after only a short while she needed to rest. She knew now that she was quite hopelessly lost, her original plan of finding the beach thrown out when it became clear that she was not going in the right direction. She had tried to retrace her steps, but that had proved futile when she lost them among the dark shadows of the forest. Sitting on a convenient log, she panted and tried to keep her spirits up, thinking about what the others would be doing, hoping that Peter was there with them, thinking about the roaring fire sure to be blazing in the hearth. Feeling a chill start to seep through her makeshift boots, Wendy got to her feet and plodded on once more. The snow wasn't as deep under the trees, but it was darker until Wendy had difficulty seeing the trees in front of her, let alone any form of shelter or habitation. She had stopped briefly to catch her breath when she saw the first light. It was a brilliant blue ball, bobbing and weaving among the trunks of the trees, still some distance away. Entranced, Wendy stood there watching it, the one soon joined by another, then another until three lights bobbed and wove among the branches, not coming any closer, but not going away either. Wendy started to walk in that direction, the lights teasing her with their closeness. As she approached the lights seemed to notice her and lined up, one starting to go.
"Oh please....don't leave me.....please come back!"
One of the lights approached and Wendy could see that it was a tiny sprite, its wings like crystals shards, its body quite naked of any clothes, its tiny head bald of any hair. It darted closer to Wendy, fluttering in front of her face, while she stared at it in wonder. Hesitantly, she held out her hand for the creature to alight on. It did, but almost instantly Wendy shook it off, pain blossoming along her arm from where it touched her skin. Bringing her hand to her face she saw a white patch where the creature had touched her, the skin quite cold, almost frozen. Alarmed she backed off, the blue sprite following her, the other two now joining their fellow, darting around Wendy, their brightness illuminating that small patch of forest with a cold light. Another shot forward and touched her cheek with its hand, Wendy crying out at the pain as she pulled away, her hand covering the suddenly frozen patch on her skin, tears of hurt and confusion swimming in her eyes.
"Don't touch me....it hurts.....you're too cold!"
The creatures looked at each other and then seemed to confer silently before converging on Wendy all at once. She screamed and batted them away, their light throwing shadows over the trees as she twisted and turned to keep them away from the exposed skin of her face and hands. They continued to buzz at her until she fell to the ground, pressing her face to the snow and shoving her hands into her sleeves to keep them from touching her. For awhile the blue sprites kept up their attempts to find an opening in the furs but were foiled, eventually giving up the game and hovering over her for several minutes before darting off among the trees in search of better sport.
Wendy raised her head from the ground, her teeth chattering, watching the sprites disappear in the gloom between the trees. Once she was sure they were gone she clambered to her feet and stood there.
"Horrid creatures......"
Once more left in the dark and alone, Wendy continued her trudge through the forest, her eyes alert for any sign of the snow sprites return.
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As luck would have it, Wendy was found only a short while later, not by the snow sprites, but by a hunting party from the Indian camp. They were part of a larger search party looking for a lost brave. They had thought Wendy to be a wild animal when they first saw her, their spears raised and arrows notched until she threw off her hood and cried out to them, the men surprised to find her so far from where the Lost Boys and Peter Pan usually roamed. They agreed to take her to the village, communicating through hand signals, Wendy falling into line as they tramped along a barely discernible track through the dense vegetation. Another hour brought them to the Indian village perched defensively on a low hill, the trees cut down around them to give them a clear view of anyone, friend or foe, approaching the palisade that surrounded the tepees. Wendy was exhausted, her feet slipping in the slush as they trudged through the tall gate into the compound. In the flare of many torches, she found herself surrounded by copper hued faces, her vision blurring as she panted raggedly, the braves leaving her to stand alone just inside the wooden wall.
She swayed unsteadily as a light was thrust into her face, then just as quickly removed, blinding her. A jabber of voices came to her as if from far away, her legs folding under her before she hit the cold mud, unaware of the shocked gasps and gentle hands that lifted her and carried her to a tent.
She came too feeling warm at last, her toes wriggling in the lush dry furs that surrounded her. Her face felt bruised, her skin hot and stiff as if she'd been out in the sun too long. As she lay blinking up at the sides of the tent, she heard the soft sound of someone humming a tune and tried to turn her head to face whoever was in the tent with her. A rustle of clothes warned her someone was approaching and she closed her eyes again.
"I have something for you to drink, Wendy lady....please open your eyes, I know you are awake."
Slowly Wendy raised her lashes to see a lovely young Indian woman leaning over her, her dark eyes smiling down at her. In her hand she held a small bowl that sent tendrils of steam into the air.
"H-o-w....h-ow do you know...w-ho I am?"
"We have all heard of you, from Peter of course."
"Oh...is he here?"
"No....we have not seen Peter for many days. Here, sit up and drink this."
Feeling stiff, Wendy raised herself on her elbow and took the small bowl, sniffing the contents before taking a sip.
"Hmmmm this is delicious."
"Thank you...it is my own concoction....very good for you."
The young woman smiled then went back to feed the fire burning in the pit to one side of the tent. Rocks were heaped up around the side to keep the embers in and stop stray sparks igniting the canvas or belonging scattered around the floor. Sipping her soup, Wendy looked at the girl who was caring for her, marvelling at her glossy black hair tied neatly into long plaits tied off with coloured strips of leather threaded with beads and feathers.
The girl turned her head and caught Wendy staring at her, but only smiled before returning to her occupation of stirring the pot hanging over the fire.
"I am called Little Star, I am the daughter of our shaman, Laughing Tree."
"I'm sorry to put you to all this trouble."
"No trouble, Wendy lady, it is an honour to offer hospitality to one so closely associated with the Pan."
"I thought.....that is......"
"You thought we were always at war with Peter and the Lost Boys?"
"Well.......yes....I suppose."
"It is just pretend......just a game we play. They capture one of ours, we capture one of them.....we trade, they bargain, it is all there is.....no anger, no blood."
"What about Hook?"
"With him it is another matter......we still trade, but we do so warily.....we don't trust Hook or his crew....that has just always been the way."
"Very wise. Did they find who they were looking for?"
"You mean the search party.......no, they found no trace of Kicking Bird. He has been gone all day and all night.....I fear he has been captured by Hook."
"Maybe the Lost Boys?"
"No.....we would have heard by now."
Handing over her bowl to the girl, Wendy sat up properly, her head swimming a little but quickly clearing.
"Little Star, did any of the braves mention seeing Peter anywhere?"
"No...I don't think so."
"Oh dear.....I was with him, earlier today, before the snow started, then we took shelter in a tree, but later he left without telling me where he was going and I haven't seen him since. I'm worried....."
"He is the Pan.....he can take care of himself. Maybe he went back to check on his Lost Boys."
"I'm sure you're right......I just wish I knew."
"Sleep, Wendy Lady......you cannot go anywhere else tonight, it will soon be morning....I'm sure Peter will come for you then."
"I am tired......I wasn't expecting to have to travel so far, and certainly not through thick snow......has this ever happened before Little Star?"
"Not like this......often when Peter would go away for a long time, it got cold, but usually only for a few hours......then when he returned, it was spring again and all warmed up. But this is not like that......this is something else....this is a bad magic that only means harm to Neverland and to the Pan."
"Bad magic?"
"My father says there is a man aboard the ship that is an evil sorcerer, a bad spirit who is using Hook for his own ends."
"The Necromancer." Wendy whispered, remembering the blasted landscape on the other side of the island.
"That is why we have built the palisade, to protect us, to keep this evil spirit away. My father works day and night, speaking to the spirits, asking their counsel on what to do for the best. He loses much sleep over this."
"Does he get any answers?"
"No.....only a feeling of hope that soon this soul-eater will be gone from our land, gone never to return."
"How will it be gone.....who will make it go?"
"That my father doesn't know."
For a while they sat in silence, the crackle of the flames the only sound. Banking the fire, Little Star lay down on a pallet by the wall, pulling furs over her, her eyes staring at the flicker of firelight on the tent wall. Wendy followed suit, making her bed amongst the furs already around her, her eyes also unfocused and staring into nothing, her thoughts chasing themselves until sleep overwhelmed her and she drifted off.
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TinkerBell was searching for Peter, her wings carrying her over the silent white landscape that was her home and his. She and her fairy friends were all out searching the jungles and forests, their lights darting among the trees and rocks, checking all his known haunts and some he thought no-one knew about.
She had been summoned by the eldest Lost Boy, the call of the pan flute irresistible to her. The snow had stopped and she had flown straight to the tree, not stopping until she was perched near enough to the fireplace to warm up but not scorch her wings. The boys and the girl had all clustered around the fairy, questions fired at her until she clapped her hands over her ears, unconsciously copying Wendy's gestured as the children all talked at once. Briggs roared at them and they shut up, staring mutely at the eldest boy who told them to let him speak or feel his fist. Once TinkerBell was warm again she flew to the biggest boy and perched on his shoulder, listening intently as Briggs told her all he knew about Peter and Wendy and their whereabouts. It was little enough, but TinkerBell promised she would try and find them. Before she left, she had the girl fashion her a fur coat from scraps cut from one of the sleeping rugs, TinkerBell almost disappearing into the skin, only her toes, nose and wings peeping out.
Leaving the children she flew back to the fairy tree, finding all her fellow fairies clustered around the Queen to keep themselves and her warm. Once she had told them of her mission, the Queen told all her subjects to aid Tink in her quest, all of them dressing in their warmest coats before flying out of the tree and spreading out. Tink searched all the places she knew Peter loved, places he would want to show his Wendy, but they were all empty. She even searched Peter's first home, but apart from the evidence that he had been there earlier there was nothing to tell Tink where he'd gone. Frustrated she kicked at a branch and watched the snow fall off and plop on the ground. In the darkness she saw a blue light, away off in the distance. As quickly as she could, TinkerBell hid herself in the knot of a tree, dimming her light as low as she could to avoid being seen. From her hideyhole she saw the blue light approach, the one soon joined by others, the snow sprites keeping low as if searching for something on the ground. She heard their crystalline voices chatter as they passed the tree that hid her, their blue light casting a cold glow over the ground as they flew by. Eventually the light disappeared as the snow sprites wove between the dense trees and out of sight. TinkerBell breathed a sigh of relief and made to go on her way. As she flew towards the ground she saw something that made her pull up short. At the base of a tree she saw a shape covered in snow. Approaching cautiously, Tink fluttered over the shape, her curiosity piqued. It looked like there was something or someone under the snow. As she lowered herself to stand on the mound she caught the unmistakable whiff of sunshine and sea, faint because of the cold, but still recognisable.
Using her fairy magic she beat her wings very fast and caused some of the snow to melt, the water running away and exposing the tips of someone's fingers. The skin was grey and as cold as ice, the fingers stiff and unyielding as TinkerBell alighted on them and tried to move one.
Screaming her frustration, she floated up the mound until she figured she was at the head, the ice rapidly melting as she fanned her wings again, this time several sun-kissed curls appeared, damp and limp from the snow. Tink had found Peter for sure.
As quick as she could, Tink flew straight up the tree and popped out above the canopy, her call going out to any fairies nearby. Soon several lights appeared above the tree tops and flew towards her. When they arrived she led them to Peter and they all fanned their wings, melting the encasing snow and revealing the frozen body of Peter Pan slumped at the base of the tree. His skin was cold to the touch, his lips blue, his eyes closed. Tink and the others quickly showered the still body with fairy dust, turning it from grey to gold. Peter slowly floating away from the ground, his limp arms and legs hanging down as the fairies bore him up above the trees and flew him slowly back home, TinkerBell hoping against hope that the Lost Boys would be able to revive their frozen leader.
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In the Captain's cabin aboard the Jolly Roger, the enchanter watched the scene played out over Neverland in a shallow dish of blood from his last unfortunate victim, his spell only lasting long enough to show him roughly where the fairies were taking the Pan before the vision faded. Snarling, he dashed the brass bowl to the floor, the blood splattering over the planking. Moving quickly to the map laid out on the table, he pulled a chain out from under his robes, the white crystal on the end shining dully in the faint candle light. Hanging the crystal over a small bowl he dipped it in, the crystal becoming coated in blood before being lifted out and suspended over the map. Almost at once it started to sway, the Necromancer's gaze watching avidly as the crystal bent on the chain and finally darted to a position on the map leaving a red dot to mark the spot. Snatching up the crystal the mage tucked it away once more before rolling up the map and turning to face the door of the cabin. He only had to wait a few seconds before the door opened and Captain Hook stood there expectantly.
"You called me?"
"I have the location of Peter Pan.....use this map, the place is marked. You will need to hurry. The snow will only last a few more hours....they will remain separated for as long as the snow persists. You must capture him before she returns to him again. If you do not and she gets there first, then you will have lost your chance to have him in your power."
"I will have what I want........what will you have?"
"The rest of the children.....they are to be mine to do with as I please...that was the deal, was it not?"
"That was the deal......" Hook repeated, his lip curling in disgust.
"Then go, and don't fail me.......Peter Pan will be yours if you do as I say......now go!"
Hook spun on his heel and left, the door shutting slowly behind him. With a satisfied sigh, the Necromancer collapsed into a chair, his body folding in on itself as he rested, his plans set in motion, needing only time and fate to work in his favour and bring about the destruction of Neverland.
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(oooooooh bring on the hot chocolate and marshmallows......I need warming up.....brrrrrrrrr.......hot water bottles anyone??)
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: Seven - The Deal
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Hook paced the deck of his ship with an impatient stride, his coat tails flaring outward each time he turned to traverse the planks again. His men went about their business with a subdued air, their chatter silenced, their work suddenly taking them as far from where Hook walked as possible. They were all too aware of what was about to happen, and were just waiting for either the order to sail or the order sending them down into the bowels of the ship to await the latest outcome of whatever strange magic the Necromancer chose to conjure from the Captain's cabin. Warily they watched and listened, the click of Hook's boots on the scrubbed wood loud in the still air.
As if only just noticing the preoccupation of his crew, Hook stopped and lifted his head, the men suddenly finding anything to look at other than their Captain. Hook was well aware that his crew were studiously avoiding any contact either by eye or action with him, it afforded him a certain amount of pleasure to know that his crew walked in abject fear of him. Although to be truthful, it wasn't Hook, it was what was occupying his cabin that the crew feared most.
If Hook was entirely truthful, he feared it as much, if not more so than they did.
Having a magician aboard that played with living human souls to perform deep magic was enough to chill anyone's blood. Having seen what the Necromancer could do with just one innocent soul, Hook was both eager and fearful to see if that power could be channelled into pursuing his own agenda, the Capture of Peter Pan. So far he'd been singular unsuccessful in stressing this point with the mage in his cabin. It galled Hook that the man thought himself far above the mortal plane, his black soul beyond the reach of men, already half way to hell and back. This was Hook's ship and Hook's men, he should have access to that power, to use as he saw fit, but the mage had other ideas. The destruction of the plain on the other side of the island had been only the start, the testing ground for what, Hook had yet to find out. This game was being played deep and Hook wasn't one of the players, just the messenger boy. He ground his teeth in frustration and paced again.
The sun beat down on his unprotected head, his glossy black hair absorbing the heat making him sweat. His coat itched and he longed to shrug it off, maybe even take one of the boats ashore and have a swim in the crystal blue water that lapped so seductively against the hull. All thoughts of his own pleasure were wiped when he felt the first tickle at the edge of his mind, a voice calling him to his cabin, the feeling like a grey cobweb fluttering in his head, the tendrils itchy and sticky, weaving their insidious way around his thoughts, numbing his will so that he dropped whatever he was doing and answered with alacrity. As before his feet instantly changed direction and he found himself outside his sturdy cabin door, his hook raised to knock. Recalling who he was, Captain Hook snatched his arm away and pushed hard on the door, waiting until it swung open fully before stepping inside. His cabin was unrecognisable as his own, all his lush furnishing and fittings stripped back to the wood, the windows boarded up, the floor and walls bare. Only his ornate desk had survived, being used by the current occupant to hold a stack of books and jar's of potions as well as an array of nightmare inducing implements beyond even Hook's ability to imagine their uses.
The figure in the centre of the room seemed to consist of shadows, his dark robes encasing him like smoke, cloaking his form until you didn't know if he was real or just an after image on your retina, glimpsed but never solid.
"Ah you are here. I need another soul, the next stage is ready for execution. Bring your captive to me....at once."
The voice reached out to him, its sibilant echoes soaking into him and making him tremble. Hook was never sure if the man actually spoke the words or they just appeared directly into his head, whichever it was the effect was the same, like a chill snaking down his spine and coiling in his guts like poison. Licking his dry lips, Hook opened his mouth to speak but the Necromancer held up a skeletal thin hand and the words remained unspoken.
"This will bring the boy you seek directly to you.....that is what you want, is it not?"
"Yes.....it is." Hook croaked.
"Then bring the captive to me....it is time to wield the spell once more."
Hook suddenly found himself outside the cabin, the door shutting slowly on his face. He didn't remember walking, only that he was no longer in his own cabin, the creature inside dismissing him like a common lackey. Shaking his head, Hook raised his arm as if to slash the door down with his metal hook, but the blow never fell. Instead he turned away and stalked down the gangway to the stairwell that led down to the brig and the prisoner awaiting in the darkness.
An hour later Hook was shouting for his crew to get the ship out to deep water, the first flakes of snow starting to fall as the Jolly Roger set sail towards the horizon, the sea already starting to freeze near the shore, the sky turning from blue to grey as they ran in front of the wind sending flurry's across the deck. Hook stood on the poopdeck, his eyes turned to watch the shore as Neverland slowly disappeared behind a curtain of white. This was not like the times that Peter Pan left Neverland, the sea freezing in an instant winter, only to thaw again in a few hours. This was different and Hook shivered in spite of his thick brocade coat. This time there had been no bloodcurdling scream, no white light and loud noise, this time the spell had been cast without the usual dramatics, but the fate of his prisoner had been the same. If he looked really hard he could still see the blackened corpse floating in the sea far astern of the ship, one stick like arm still pointing to the sky. Hook shuddered, hating to be the one to deliver the victims to the enchanter, the previous time a bewildered Lost Boy, so young and angry, this time a reckless Indian youth who strayed too close to shore out of curiosity or bravado they would never now, his fate the same as the Lost Boy.
They were far enough out at for the sea-ice not to reach them, although the cold did, the snow still falling even this far out.
"Keep a steady course, Mister Gore....then circle around the island."
"Aye, aye Sir!"
Neverland had all but vanished behind the veil of white when Hook turned away at last, the cold too penetrating for him to remain on deck any longer.
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Wendy huddled by the small fire she'd managed to get going, the flames eating through her small pile of wood too quickly. She pulled the furs more tightly around herself, her toes almost in the ashes as she tried to maintain her body heat. It had been hours since she'd awoken alone and she couldn't stop wondering why Peter had left her and not returned. She had briefly gone outside to check for any sign of him but had been beaten back by the sheer cold, the visibility almost zero as snow continued to fall, thick and heavy over the forest. Inside the tree the air was only slightly warmer, her pitiful fire bravely beating back the numbing chill at first, but as her wood diminished so did its ability to warm her. Soon it would go out altogether and she would be faced with either freezing to death in the tree, or setting out to find another shelter. With this in mind, she started to work on creating some sort of footwear to protect her feet and legs, as well as a way to keep the thickly furred skins around her. With time running out, she found lengths of twine and supple creepers and used them to bind the skins to her body, her numb fingers fumbling until she held them almost in the flames to thaw them. When feeling returned, along with the pain of pins and needles, she worked quickly to create her protective snow suit. By the time she had laid the last piece of wood on the fire she was almost ready, only needing to create a hood to finish her new ensemble. She was glad she didn't have a mirror, sure that she must look like some strange kind of lumpy bear under all the multi-coloured fur, but she didn't mind, it was keeping her warm, and more importantly alive.
When the last flame died, she rose and left the hideout, having to push hard at the secret door to open it. Outside she found that the snow had stopped, but had left huge drifts that would made walking difficult if not impossible for her. Standing outside she was faced with a new problem. She had no idea which direction to go in. She tried to think happy thoughts, remembering the night spent in Peter's arms, but nothing happened. After several failed attempts she deduced that she needed fairy dust to fly, something she had none of. Thinking of fairy dust, made her think of the fairies, wondering how they were coping in this sudden cold snap, whether they were able to survive at all. As she stood there, her breath clouding the air, she decided to head back to the beach and start from there. At least if anyone came looking for her they would see her more clearly out in the open and maybe follow her footsteps as well. Making up her mind she set out, threading her way through the trees in what she thought was the direction of the beach.
Unfortunately for Wendy, she was heading in entirely the opposite direction, each step taking her further and further away from her destination.
As she plodded through the forest, she found the exercise was making her toasty warm, her body working very hard until after only a short while she needed to rest. She knew now that she was quite hopelessly lost, her original plan of finding the beach thrown out when it became clear that she was not going in the right direction. She had tried to retrace her steps, but that had proved futile when she lost them among the dark shadows of the forest. Sitting on a convenient log, she panted and tried to keep her spirits up, thinking about what the others would be doing, hoping that Peter was there with them, thinking about the roaring fire sure to be blazing in the hearth. Feeling a chill start to seep through her makeshift boots, Wendy got to her feet and plodded on once more. The snow wasn't as deep under the trees, but it was darker until Wendy had difficulty seeing the trees in front of her, let alone any form of shelter or habitation. She had stopped briefly to catch her breath when she saw the first light. It was a brilliant blue ball, bobbing and weaving among the trunks of the trees, still some distance away. Entranced, Wendy stood there watching it, the one soon joined by another, then another until three lights bobbed and wove among the branches, not coming any closer, but not going away either. Wendy started to walk in that direction, the lights teasing her with their closeness. As she approached the lights seemed to notice her and lined up, one starting to go.
"Oh please....don't leave me.....please come back!"
One of the lights approached and Wendy could see that it was a tiny sprite, its wings like crystals shards, its body quite naked of any clothes, its tiny head bald of any hair. It darted closer to Wendy, fluttering in front of her face, while she stared at it in wonder. Hesitantly, she held out her hand for the creature to alight on. It did, but almost instantly Wendy shook it off, pain blossoming along her arm from where it touched her skin. Bringing her hand to her face she saw a white patch where the creature had touched her, the skin quite cold, almost frozen. Alarmed she backed off, the blue sprite following her, the other two now joining their fellow, darting around Wendy, their brightness illuminating that small patch of forest with a cold light. Another shot forward and touched her cheek with its hand, Wendy crying out at the pain as she pulled away, her hand covering the suddenly frozen patch on her skin, tears of hurt and confusion swimming in her eyes.
"Don't touch me....it hurts.....you're too cold!"
The creatures looked at each other and then seemed to confer silently before converging on Wendy all at once. She screamed and batted them away, their light throwing shadows over the trees as she twisted and turned to keep them away from the exposed skin of her face and hands. They continued to buzz at her until she fell to the ground, pressing her face to the snow and shoving her hands into her sleeves to keep them from touching her. For awhile the blue sprites kept up their attempts to find an opening in the furs but were foiled, eventually giving up the game and hovering over her for several minutes before darting off among the trees in search of better sport.
Wendy raised her head from the ground, her teeth chattering, watching the sprites disappear in the gloom between the trees. Once she was sure they were gone she clambered to her feet and stood there.
"Horrid creatures......"
Once more left in the dark and alone, Wendy continued her trudge through the forest, her eyes alert for any sign of the snow sprites return.
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As luck would have it, Wendy was found only a short while later, not by the snow sprites, but by a hunting party from the Indian camp. They were part of a larger search party looking for a lost brave. They had thought Wendy to be a wild animal when they first saw her, their spears raised and arrows notched until she threw off her hood and cried out to them, the men surprised to find her so far from where the Lost Boys and Peter Pan usually roamed. They agreed to take her to the village, communicating through hand signals, Wendy falling into line as they tramped along a barely discernible track through the dense vegetation. Another hour brought them to the Indian village perched defensively on a low hill, the trees cut down around them to give them a clear view of anyone, friend or foe, approaching the palisade that surrounded the tepees. Wendy was exhausted, her feet slipping in the slush as they trudged through the tall gate into the compound. In the flare of many torches, she found herself surrounded by copper hued faces, her vision blurring as she panted raggedly, the braves leaving her to stand alone just inside the wooden wall.
She swayed unsteadily as a light was thrust into her face, then just as quickly removed, blinding her. A jabber of voices came to her as if from far away, her legs folding under her before she hit the cold mud, unaware of the shocked gasps and gentle hands that lifted her and carried her to a tent.
She came too feeling warm at last, her toes wriggling in the lush dry furs that surrounded her. Her face felt bruised, her skin hot and stiff as if she'd been out in the sun too long. As she lay blinking up at the sides of the tent, she heard the soft sound of someone humming a tune and tried to turn her head to face whoever was in the tent with her. A rustle of clothes warned her someone was approaching and she closed her eyes again.
"I have something for you to drink, Wendy lady....please open your eyes, I know you are awake."
Slowly Wendy raised her lashes to see a lovely young Indian woman leaning over her, her dark eyes smiling down at her. In her hand she held a small bowl that sent tendrils of steam into the air.
"H-o-w....h-ow do you know...w-ho I am?"
"We have all heard of you, from Peter of course."
"Oh...is he here?"
"No....we have not seen Peter for many days. Here, sit up and drink this."
Feeling stiff, Wendy raised herself on her elbow and took the small bowl, sniffing the contents before taking a sip.
"Hmmmm this is delicious."
"Thank you...it is my own concoction....very good for you."
The young woman smiled then went back to feed the fire burning in the pit to one side of the tent. Rocks were heaped up around the side to keep the embers in and stop stray sparks igniting the canvas or belonging scattered around the floor. Sipping her soup, Wendy looked at the girl who was caring for her, marvelling at her glossy black hair tied neatly into long plaits tied off with coloured strips of leather threaded with beads and feathers.
The girl turned her head and caught Wendy staring at her, but only smiled before returning to her occupation of stirring the pot hanging over the fire.
"I am called Little Star, I am the daughter of our shaman, Laughing Tree."
"I'm sorry to put you to all this trouble."
"No trouble, Wendy lady, it is an honour to offer hospitality to one so closely associated with the Pan."
"I thought.....that is......"
"You thought we were always at war with Peter and the Lost Boys?"
"Well.......yes....I suppose."
"It is just pretend......just a game we play. They capture one of ours, we capture one of them.....we trade, they bargain, it is all there is.....no anger, no blood."
"What about Hook?"
"With him it is another matter......we still trade, but we do so warily.....we don't trust Hook or his crew....that has just always been the way."
"Very wise. Did they find who they were looking for?"
"You mean the search party.......no, they found no trace of Kicking Bird. He has been gone all day and all night.....I fear he has been captured by Hook."
"Maybe the Lost Boys?"
"No.....we would have heard by now."
Handing over her bowl to the girl, Wendy sat up properly, her head swimming a little but quickly clearing.
"Little Star, did any of the braves mention seeing Peter anywhere?"
"No...I don't think so."
"Oh dear.....I was with him, earlier today, before the snow started, then we took shelter in a tree, but later he left without telling me where he was going and I haven't seen him since. I'm worried....."
"He is the Pan.....he can take care of himself. Maybe he went back to check on his Lost Boys."
"I'm sure you're right......I just wish I knew."
"Sleep, Wendy Lady......you cannot go anywhere else tonight, it will soon be morning....I'm sure Peter will come for you then."
"I am tired......I wasn't expecting to have to travel so far, and certainly not through thick snow......has this ever happened before Little Star?"
"Not like this......often when Peter would go away for a long time, it got cold, but usually only for a few hours......then when he returned, it was spring again and all warmed up. But this is not like that......this is something else....this is a bad magic that only means harm to Neverland and to the Pan."
"Bad magic?"
"My father says there is a man aboard the ship that is an evil sorcerer, a bad spirit who is using Hook for his own ends."
"The Necromancer." Wendy whispered, remembering the blasted landscape on the other side of the island.
"That is why we have built the palisade, to protect us, to keep this evil spirit away. My father works day and night, speaking to the spirits, asking their counsel on what to do for the best. He loses much sleep over this."
"Does he get any answers?"
"No.....only a feeling of hope that soon this soul-eater will be gone from our land, gone never to return."
"How will it be gone.....who will make it go?"
"That my father doesn't know."
For a while they sat in silence, the crackle of the flames the only sound. Banking the fire, Little Star lay down on a pallet by the wall, pulling furs over her, her eyes staring at the flicker of firelight on the tent wall. Wendy followed suit, making her bed amongst the furs already around her, her eyes also unfocused and staring into nothing, her thoughts chasing themselves until sleep overwhelmed her and she drifted off.
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TinkerBell was searching for Peter, her wings carrying her over the silent white landscape that was her home and his. She and her fairy friends were all out searching the jungles and forests, their lights darting among the trees and rocks, checking all his known haunts and some he thought no-one knew about.
She had been summoned by the eldest Lost Boy, the call of the pan flute irresistible to her. The snow had stopped and she had flown straight to the tree, not stopping until she was perched near enough to the fireplace to warm up but not scorch her wings. The boys and the girl had all clustered around the fairy, questions fired at her until she clapped her hands over her ears, unconsciously copying Wendy's gestured as the children all talked at once. Briggs roared at them and they shut up, staring mutely at the eldest boy who told them to let him speak or feel his fist. Once TinkerBell was warm again she flew to the biggest boy and perched on his shoulder, listening intently as Briggs told her all he knew about Peter and Wendy and their whereabouts. It was little enough, but TinkerBell promised she would try and find them. Before she left, she had the girl fashion her a fur coat from scraps cut from one of the sleeping rugs, TinkerBell almost disappearing into the skin, only her toes, nose and wings peeping out.
Leaving the children she flew back to the fairy tree, finding all her fellow fairies clustered around the Queen to keep themselves and her warm. Once she had told them of her mission, the Queen told all her subjects to aid Tink in her quest, all of them dressing in their warmest coats before flying out of the tree and spreading out. Tink searched all the places she knew Peter loved, places he would want to show his Wendy, but they were all empty. She even searched Peter's first home, but apart from the evidence that he had been there earlier there was nothing to tell Tink where he'd gone. Frustrated she kicked at a branch and watched the snow fall off and plop on the ground. In the darkness she saw a blue light, away off in the distance. As quickly as she could, TinkerBell hid herself in the knot of a tree, dimming her light as low as she could to avoid being seen. From her hideyhole she saw the blue light approach, the one soon joined by others, the snow sprites keeping low as if searching for something on the ground. She heard their crystalline voices chatter as they passed the tree that hid her, their blue light casting a cold glow over the ground as they flew by. Eventually the light disappeared as the snow sprites wove between the dense trees and out of sight. TinkerBell breathed a sigh of relief and made to go on her way. As she flew towards the ground she saw something that made her pull up short. At the base of a tree she saw a shape covered in snow. Approaching cautiously, Tink fluttered over the shape, her curiosity piqued. It looked like there was something or someone under the snow. As she lowered herself to stand on the mound she caught the unmistakable whiff of sunshine and sea, faint because of the cold, but still recognisable.
Using her fairy magic she beat her wings very fast and caused some of the snow to melt, the water running away and exposing the tips of someone's fingers. The skin was grey and as cold as ice, the fingers stiff and unyielding as TinkerBell alighted on them and tried to move one.
Screaming her frustration, she floated up the mound until she figured she was at the head, the ice rapidly melting as she fanned her wings again, this time several sun-kissed curls appeared, damp and limp from the snow. Tink had found Peter for sure.
As quick as she could, Tink flew straight up the tree and popped out above the canopy, her call going out to any fairies nearby. Soon several lights appeared above the tree tops and flew towards her. When they arrived she led them to Peter and they all fanned their wings, melting the encasing snow and revealing the frozen body of Peter Pan slumped at the base of the tree. His skin was cold to the touch, his lips blue, his eyes closed. Tink and the others quickly showered the still body with fairy dust, turning it from grey to gold. Peter slowly floating away from the ground, his limp arms and legs hanging down as the fairies bore him up above the trees and flew him slowly back home, TinkerBell hoping against hope that the Lost Boys would be able to revive their frozen leader.
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In the Captain's cabin aboard the Jolly Roger, the enchanter watched the scene played out over Neverland in a shallow dish of blood from his last unfortunate victim, his spell only lasting long enough to show him roughly where the fairies were taking the Pan before the vision faded. Snarling, he dashed the brass bowl to the floor, the blood splattering over the planking. Moving quickly to the map laid out on the table, he pulled a chain out from under his robes, the white crystal on the end shining dully in the faint candle light. Hanging the crystal over a small bowl he dipped it in, the crystal becoming coated in blood before being lifted out and suspended over the map. Almost at once it started to sway, the Necromancer's gaze watching avidly as the crystal bent on the chain and finally darted to a position on the map leaving a red dot to mark the spot. Snatching up the crystal the mage tucked it away once more before rolling up the map and turning to face the door of the cabin. He only had to wait a few seconds before the door opened and Captain Hook stood there expectantly.
"You called me?"
"I have the location of Peter Pan.....use this map, the place is marked. You will need to hurry. The snow will only last a few more hours....they will remain separated for as long as the snow persists. You must capture him before she returns to him again. If you do not and she gets there first, then you will have lost your chance to have him in your power."
"I will have what I want........what will you have?"
"The rest of the children.....they are to be mine to do with as I please...that was the deal, was it not?"
"That was the deal......" Hook repeated, his lip curling in disgust.
"Then go, and don't fail me.......Peter Pan will be yours if you do as I say......now go!"
Hook spun on his heel and left, the door shutting slowly behind him. With a satisfied sigh, the Necromancer collapsed into a chair, his body folding in on itself as he rested, his plans set in motion, needing only time and fate to work in his favour and bring about the destruction of Neverland.
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(oooooooh bring on the hot chocolate and marshmallows......I need warming up.....brrrrrrrrr.......hot water bottles anyone??)